


I Always Make Such Expensive Mistakes

by trumor (Compositae)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, Shoplifting, ben is an immoveable object, klaus is an unstoppable force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Compositae/pseuds/trumor
Summary: In which Klaus has sticky fingers, a full closet, and very few regrets.





	I Always Make Such Expensive Mistakes

The sweater catches Klaus’ eye from the doorway of the consignment store.

I’M A LUXURY, it proclaims, FEW CAN AFFORD. Klaus grins, first hesitantly cocky, then into full, blown-out laughter. It’s true, isn’t it? Between his own inability to keep money in his pockets, to the rehab Klaus pretends he doesn’t know Allison pays for, to the sheer emotional taxation he works over Ben and Diego and whatever other unlucky bastard he happens to come across, it’s a miracle that anyone bears to spend even a moment with him. 

Aforementioned weary brother hovers behind him in some odd parody of an angel on the shoulder.

“Don’t you dare, Klaus. That shit costs more than your allowance for food this week, and after the Taco Bell fiasco, we _literally_ cannot afford to go off budget again.”

Klaus scoffs. Says the guy who doesn’t even need to eat meals, big whoop. And the Taco Bell incident wasn’t a _fiasco_ as much as an unfortunate but very entertaining waste of time, money, and a whole lot of dollar menu items. However, Ben doesn’t know the true genius of Klaus’ plan to acquire the sweater without a cent paid -- or maybe he does, given the intensity of the frown upon his face. Nevertheless, Klaus puts on a winning smile and nods once, politely, enough to show Ben he’s acknowledged but not to put the shop attendant at high alert.

Now, time for the con to play out. Klaus knows what will draw attention in stores like these, especially as he’s 98% sure he’s already tripped all the alarms. Extravagant face makeup? Check. One tousle over expertly disheveled hair? Positive. Heels superglued back on after a particularly energetic night out? Affirmative. The attendant behind the desk is already giving him the stink eye, and he only just entered. Ugh, the nerve of some people! They judge him to be a criminal even though he hasn’t done anything yet - and given, he is going to steal the fuck out of that sweater, but even so! Assumptions are a bitch.

He plucks the sweater off the hanger and waits patiently, casually perusing the racks as the circulation of customers that entered around the same time as him gradually filter out. Taking his time to observe the selection, he also conveniently notices that the only security camera seems to be blocked by a rather unfortunate pair of vinyl and denim cutoff jorts that even he couldn’t pull off. Once the shop is empty except for him and the attendant, he walks over to the changing rooms in the back and inspects them quickly. They’re the fancy type, because of course they are, the type that a worker has to come and unlock before a customer can use them. Excellent. 

Klaus presses his ear to the door as if to listen for someone inside, but instead quickly details the plans of his heist to Ben, who looks disappointed but at this point not surprised. Ben only has time to throw in one comment - _get the keys, don’t forget the keys_ \- before Klaus feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to see the attendant, hand on hip, glaring at him.

“Did you want to try on those items… sir?” she grits out, less of a question and more of a request to get him to stop existing within the same breathing space as her.

Klaus smiles widely. The bait has been taken. “Why, yes please! The door seems to be locked, though. Do you happen to have the key?”

(“God, act more suspicious, will you?” Ben sighs. “She’s having a bad enough day working retail, she doesn’t need to shovel herself out from under your bullshit too.”)

The sales attendant glowers and shoulders past him to the door. With a few tries (she’s unexperienced with a lock, fate must be smiling upon him), she eventually hits the right hammers and the door swings open.

“We have a policy that if you take more than ten minutes you have to leave, so…” She leaves the statement hanging. It’s clearly a ‘policy’ that she made up the minute Klaus walked in, but nevertheless Klaus nods energetically and shoots her a finger gun. 

“It’ll be a jiffy, thank you kindly!”

She’s just begun to walk away when Klaus shrieks and bolts out of the fitting room. “There’s fucking- _pardon my French_ \- fucking ants in there!! God, what kind of establishment are you running?”

The attendant stops and turns around slowly, a mixture of disbelief and disgust on her face. 

“Ants, sir? You’ve got to be kidding, we clean all the time, there’s no way--”

“Well, call it Christmas because I just witnessed a fucking miracle then! If you don’t believe me,” Klaus states huffily, eyes brimming with tears that he hopes to high heaven read as fear from the outside, because inwardly he’s cackling like a madman, “come look for yourself.”

She begins stalking her way towards him and he scuttles away from the supposed infestation, throwing glances back to the fitting room - during one of which he messily collides with the attendant and, after a bout of apologies, continues backing off with her key cradled neatly within the folds of the prized sweater he still clutches in his hands. 

The minute she’s fully in the fitting room, bending under the bench to inspect for the swarm, Klaus silently edges the door closed behind her and locks the door with one swift movement. He tucks the edge of the key under the door - he’s no animal, of course he wouldn’t leave her stranded there - and calmly saunters out the door, prize received. After a few seconds, he hears banging and yelling from the store receding behind him, and he speeds up his pace, nearly tripping over cracks in the pavement. Ben’s laughing hard behind him, would be wheezing if he still had physical lungs, and it’s only after Klaus has turned the corner does he allow himself to celebrate his victory. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit? I can’t believe that worked!” he whoops, throwing his hands in the air and bringing them back down into an enthusiastic fist pump. Sans heels, he’d be jumping around like a jackrabbit to rid himself of his nervous energy, but he settles for whipping his sweater around above his head like a burlesque dancer.

“Neither can I. Wait, hold it up so I can see it. Why did you even want this shit anyways?” Ben inquires, hands in his pockets. Klaus complies eagerly and pulls the sweater over his head before flinging his arms wide and doing a little twirl. 

Ben takes a second to process the words, then his eyes light up like they always would after reading something he liked, and he bursts out laughing, dropping his face into his hands.

“The irony is unbearable.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first posted fanfic and i wrote it in an hour full of panicked stress
> 
> i have no idea what the shit i am doing god fuck damn
> 
> thanks for reading


End file.
